


Rough Love

by CuppyCake5



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:50:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuppyCake5/pseuds/CuppyCake5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ok, obviously I made Cobol into an actual character as opposed to Cobol Engineering as it is in the movie. In addition, the violence warning is just as a precaution. I don't describe the violence itself, just the aftermath.</p><p>Arthur has a thing for pain and really rough sex. So rough that it's dangerous. Eames has tried to warn him, but Arthur's ignored him. So Eames decides to show him a different side to sex instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough Love

Arthur laid on the floor, bloodied and weak. Cobol stood above him, a devious look on his face while he redressed. As he tried to move, a soft moan of pain came from Arthur and instead of trying again, he laid there, cringing and breathing heavily through his misery.

“Come on, Arthur. Half the reason I like you so much is that you don’t whimper. You don’t complain.” Kneeling down onto the floor, Cobol grabbed his face and forced his companion to look at him, despite the set to his mouth that said he was done with his ‘playmate’ for the night. “Don’t ruin that for me.” Then he roughly kissed Arthur, their lips smashing together so hard they looked almost one. But there was no affection to the kiss, only dominance. Only Cobol, once again, proving to his victim that he owned him so to speak.

Cobol left then. Just left. Leaving his willing victim on the floor to care for himself. As if he thought Arthur was nothing but an insignificant speck in the world.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, naked on the cold, wood floor, but is was long enough to make his back ache and begin to stiffen in addition to the pain in the rest of his body. Finally, it was enough. Arthur needed to move. The couch wasn’t more than a few feet. He could surely make it. It took longer than he was willing to admit to get to the piece of furniture. But there’d been a lot of stopping, even more whimpering, and halfhearted pleas with a god he doubted even existed to just move the couch to him. If a god did exist, he was a prick that liked to see people suffer. Eventually, he made it though. Now was the truly difficult part. Having half crawled and half pulled himself to the couch, Arthur now had to stand.

Moving to sit up, and then kneel, a pain filled shriek escaped him. “Fucking hell shit!” He tried his damnedest not to move more than was necessary. Finally making it onto the couch, Arthur laid back, panting and sweaty. But the effort and strain were well worth it. The couch was inviting and hugged his every curve. It was a much more comforting feeling than the wood floor. The only issue now was just how visible his damaged body was. It made him feel oddly self-conscious and exposed in his empty apartment. Luckily, there was a blanket off the back of the couch. It also took far less energy to pull it over himself thankfully. Almost immediately he fell asleep.

The first time Arthur woke, he knew he’d only been asleep for a few hours, because the sun was beginning to creep its way into his apartment. After curling onto his side, despite the protest of his muscles and joints, he fell back asleep. The second time, if he had to guess, it was early afternoon. And he must’ve had a nightmare. Why else would he still be covered in sweat like he was? And after a quick inspection of his body, yellow and purple blemishes starting to sprout, again, he fell asleep. At least his leather couch was safe from bloodstains.

The third time he woke, it was at the hand of Eames. “Arthur?! Arthur! Wake up!” He’d never seen the older man’s face so twisted with emotion before. Fear, worry, and something… It almost made the Forger look sad.

Eames had always looked forward to time he could spend with the Point Man. But those times were few and far between. They had dangerous jobs. Spending too much time together, even only as companions, added to the danger for both of them. And sometimes it was just easier for Eames to stay away.

And then there was this.

The door hadn’t been locked, which immediately told Eames something was wrong. But then inside, things looked awful. A table was broken. Wall art was crooked. A lamp knocked over. And walking in, he thought he’d heard glass crunch beneath his feet. But he’d been distracted by seeing Arthur on the couch.

For a moment it felt as if time had frozen around him. And his chest caving in as he stood there, staring in shock. Arthur had a bruise across his cheek and dried blood on the corner of his mouth. And he looked unconscious. Was he even alive?

Racing to his side, Eames fell to his knees beside the younger man. “Arthur?! Arthur! Wake up!”

“Holy fuck.” Arthur muttered in annoyance. “Shut up, I’m right here. Don’t yell.”

Even though he felt his cheeks flush in anger towards whoever did this, Eames relaxed. At least the man he cared for wasn’t dead. “What happened to you? Your apartment? Your face! Jesus. I’ll bet it was fucking Nash. He probably sold you out.” That weasel bastard had had it in for Arthur and Cobb since the two had agreed to cut him out after he botched the Saito job. “Son of bitch.” Eames hissed.

With a sigh, Arthur was relieved that when he rolled onto his back his body wasn’t in nearly as much pain. He debated for a moment about lying to Eames. He knew about Cobol. And had strongly discouraged the… ‘relationship’. And he’d never seen Arthur after one of their times together. But ultimately, he decided the truth was the best. After all, as a Forger, Eames could see when he lied. “No, I wasn’t robbed. Cobol was over last night.”

The look on Eames face, it was gut wrenching. It looked as if he were watching Arthur being beaten in front of his eyes and could do nothing to stop it. “Arthur.” The pleading in Eames voice made Arthur ashamed. Any other time, he wouldn’t be. This was something he couldn’t quite explain. Arthur, despite the pain and the bruises, enjoyed the roughness. And he found somebody willing to do this for him. Why should that be a shameful thing? “Arthur, you have to stop this. Look at you.” Tenderly, Eames reached towards the younger man’s face, stroking his hair from his eyes, ignoring the fact his hair was stiff with dried blood.

“Come on, Arthur.” Without hesitation, Eames pulled back the blanket, trying not to stare at the bruises. But Arthur heard the older man mutter quietly, leaving him only to imagine what was said. Trying to grab the blanket back to cover himself again, Eames tossed it aside. “We have to get you cleaned up. And that blanket too. It’s filthy.”

Eames helped the injured man to his feet, supporting as much of Arthur’s weight as he could, and helped him into the bathroom. Arthur wasn’t particularly fond of this, being treated and cared for like a child. He wasn’t feeble. Ok, well, yes, right now, his state was weakened. But only for the time being and only somewhat. Sitting on the edge of his tub, Arthur scowled at the Forger. “This isn’t necessary. I’m not an invalid.”

“Shove off.” Was all Eames said as he tested the water with his hand, assuring it wasn’t too hot or too cold, but was instead that perfect sweet spot. “I would tell you to strip, but you’re already naked.” He said with a forced smile, trying to make this situation less. Just less.

“Yeah. And this is the only time you’ll catch a glimpse, so take a good long look.” Normally, between the two men, the sexual tension was so great it made the air around them thick. And Arthur had honestly expected Eames to stare at him with some kind of want or intensity. But the older man didn’t even look glance in his direction.

Yes, any other time Eames would’ve looked at Arthur’s body, gazed at the man’s flat stomach and chest with want. He would’ve taken pleasure in staring as long as possible at the man’s pale body. But he didn’t want to see it as it was. Not like it was. Battered and bruised. Such a body shouldn’t be bloodied and yellow and purple. It shouldn’t be treated so harshly. It should be gently stroked. Kissed delicately. Not met with angry fists.

With everything ready, Arthur tried to stand and get to the shower on his own, but he was still not yet up to par. His legs were still slightly unstable. But he’d push through it. “A bath would’ve been better. Genius.” Eyebrows scrunching together in annoyance, Eames shook his head. “You want to sit in a tub of your own filth and blood? I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

“You’ll do no such thing. I’ll lean against the wall.” The thought of a person Arthur worked with on a regular basis helping him to bathe was horrifying. He would then know the embarrassment older people felt when their own children had to bathe them. “I’m not a child. I can do this myself.” Stepping into the shower, the warm water already felt wonderful to Arthur. As if this were exactly what he needed.

Anger finally set in. “Fine. You know what, do it yourself then. I don’t give a damn.” Eames spoke through clenched teeth, shoving a washcloth and soap at the man, then yanking the curtain closed. “Take care of you damned self.” If he couldn’t see that Eames was only trying to take care of him, help him heal… If Arthur couldn’t see that these episodes with Cobol were detrimental to his health, physically and mentally, and chose not to listen to Eames, why should Eames try so hard?

Guilt had already begun to set in for his rough tone. “Eames?” Hearing Arthur’s voice, soft and almost nervous, made Eames anger quickly melt away. He needed to be more understanding. Yes, this, whatever this was with Cobol, was bad. Horrifying. And the fact that the younger man completely ignored Eames warnings was maddening. But Arthur was important to him. Because he was blind, was Eames just going to abandon him? No. He wasn’t sure what Cobol was capable of. But Cobol should hope and pray to never find out what Eames was capable of when push came to shove.

“Yes, Arthur?” The Forger’s voice was upsetting to Arthur. It sounded tired. Worn. How many times had this man tried to warn him against the cruelty of Cobol? Somebody he’d come to depend on for the pleasure he found in pain? It seemed almost unfair to ask for his help now. But he needed it. Washing proved harder than he thought. “I… I’m having some difficulty. Would you mind?”

Without another word or even a thought about it, Eames pulled back the shower curtain and gently took the washcloth from Arthur’s hand. Arthur was leaned against the wall of the shower that was easiest for Eames to wash him from without actually getting too wet himself.

Seeing Arthur’s skin up close and wet was mesmerizing. It was so pale and soft, but muscular. It made Eames want for him flair up in a burn he’d never felt before. And he was so close to him. His exposed body right there. Even if Arthur were sore… Eames couldn’t stop his want. And he could be gentle.

Arthur felt differently though. The same, but differently. Eames gentleness was sensual in a way he never knew existed. Feeling the gentle kneading of his skin as his dried blood was washed off his body was… soothing. Leaning his head against the wall, Arthur’s breathing turned slow and steady, as if he were medicated.

Eames was careful, sure not to travel dangerously close anywhere he was tempted to. He’d already thought it many times in the short timeframe. How easy would it be to give in? Start massaging Arthur’s thigh, get him worked up, and push for something they’d discussed at length, but ultimately decided against? It could easily be done. But... Arthur was fragile right now. And Eames didn’t want to be the one to make it worse for him.

With the water running clear, it was time to move on. Arthur’s hair needed a good washing. “Lift your head, darling.” Eames said quietly. Arthur looked so relaxed, eyes closed and he was practically laid against the wall. He would’ve thought the younger man was sleeping. But the look on his face told Eames that he wasn’t. He looked as if frozen in a moment that was a mixture pleasing and relaxing.

Arthur had hoped that Eames hand would slip, accidentally graze against his cock. Even his thigh. But it didn’t happen. Not once. Eames hand didn’t even come close. It was almost maddening. And he supposed he’d lost his chance at anything happening. Because now Eames fingers were massaging his scalp, tangling into his hair. Arthur’s eyes opened and he found that Eames was staring intently at his lips. And the way the forger was biting his own lip… It made his stomach tighten with desire. 

Without thinking too much about it, Arthur’s hand found its way up to the back of Eames neck, taking a strong hold on it and pulled the other man into a kiss. A kiss that was innocent at first. Just the gentle meeting of two pairs of lips. But quicker than either of them would’ve expected, the gentleness melted away. It wasn’t rough. There was still a sweetness there. A sweetness in the longing they both felt, a need that was clear. Lips parted, tongues exploring. Hot breath being shared.

It wasn’t long before Eames was in the shower too, completely clothed, but pressed up against the other man. And his wet clothes, clung to his body, leaving nothing to Arthur’s imagination as he felt every part of Eames on him.

Before long kissing wasn’t enough. And Arthur refused to allow himself to be the only naked one in this shower. Arthur’s hands ripped at Eames clothing, trying his damnedest to rip it off. It wasn’t as easy as it could’ve been, water weighing them down. But soon enough his hideous shirt and tie (that didn’t match) were off, his jacket having been shed before the shower had begun.

Arthur wasn’t moving fast enough. Eames was still partly clothed. And he wanted desperately to feel Arthur’s skin against his own. He began helping, peeling his clothes off his wet body. First his pants, then his briefs. A loud slap sound was made when the heavy clothes hit the tile of the floor outside the shower. Finally, finally! After so many years of want and fantasizing, Eames finally knew what it felt like to hold Arthur’s body tight against his own, feel the Point Man’s warm, wet skin on his.

But that paled in comparison to feeling Arthur’s hardness against his own, it sent thrills through his entire body. As if that contact alone was sparking his entire body with life. Oh god, the pressure of it was driving Eames mad. Before he could talk himself out of it, Eames hand slid between their bodies and wrapped gently around Arthur.

A small intake of breath from Arthur told Eames that he wanted this. Even if his body was still aching, which it surely had to be, he wanted this too.

Yes, Arthur’s body had an ache to it. Quite a bit, all things considering. But his need, his want, greatly outweighed that. Eames was being gentle. Gentle in way he never knew somebody could be. They weren’t fucking. They weren’t screwing. They weren’t even having sex. But Eames wanted to make love to Arthur, wanted to take care of him, and Arthur felt that in every part of his body.

He felt it as Eames fingers wrapped around his member and began stroking him back and forth. Arthur felt it when he older man’s lips landed on his jaw, on his neck, on his shoulder, and on his chest. There were no bites, not even a nip. Just soft gentle kisses mixed with the man’s hot breath brushing his skin.

Arthur’s head began to swim when Eames began to pick up speed, moving faster along his cock. His hips began bucking into the man’s hand, wanting more and more. Oh just a little more would do wonders. Just a little tighter. Just a little faster. Arthur’s hand slid over Eames tightening the man’s grip on him. And Arthur knew it wouldn’t be much longer before he couldn’t hold back. The other man’s hand, his kisses, and the sweet nothings he was whispering into Arthur’s skin… Soon it would all be too much.

The sweet nothings Eames was whispering into Arthur’s skin, whispers to protect him, take care of him if he’d only let him, to always be there for him, they weren’t just sweet nothings. They were promises. Eames would fill every last one if only Arthur would let him. It was all he wanted. And if Arthur didn’t see that now, then he never would.

As if Arthur’s hand tightening Eames hand weren’t enough, his moans. Those moans. The moans he’d spent so many nights dreaming of, wondering if they’d actually sound as sweet and sensual as he imagined they would. They sounded so much better than he ever could’ve imagined.

Moving his hand faster over Arthur, Eames waited, waited desperately for what he wanted. And after a few more quick strokes of Arthur’s shaft he got it.

Both men breathing heavily, Eames let the water rinse his hand clean as he rested his forehead against Arthur’s, their breath mingling together between them. “I’m sorry. You must be in pain.” Eames said, brushing his lips against Arthur’s.

“No. No actually. I’m doing much better now. Thank you.” Arthur’s hand stroked down Eames chest, around his waist, and to his back, caging the Forger against him. “Thank you.” He said again, kissing Eames soft lips. Arthur’s free hand slide between them, a smile forming on his lips, as he took hold of the older man in his hand.


End file.
